


(At) Home Sick

by milkysweet



Series: Sickfic [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Sickfic, emeto warning nothing graphic, this is the only kind of fic i write i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysweet/pseuds/milkysweet
Summary: Keith worries about his presentation. He forgets to worry about Lance.





	(At) Home Sick

A ping from Keith’s phone has him looking away from his laptop and stretching across the bed to reach it. He isn’t the type to get a bunch of messages an hour, so if he gets a notification, he always checks it. 

LanceyLance: _hey when is good to call?_

Keith groans, dropping his phone back down. He forgot he told Lance he’d call him tonight. Keith is away this week at a convention. He didn’t call him yesterday, just texted when his flight got in, and they don’t usually go this long without speaking. It’s not like they _need_ to or anything, but it’s just habit. The only problem is that Keith really can’t talk tonight. His presentation is tomorrow and he’s coping with the nerves by going over his speech notes a thousand times. He really wants to do well. Shiro was supposed to be here to back him up, but he got called away at the last minute to some medical emergency across the country that they ‘required his expertise on’. So Keith, working under him, is left to do the whole thing on his own. 

__

_sorry i have to pass on this one._

__

_im going over my notes and then i remembered i have to do this thing for shiro_

LanceyLance: _just for a couple minutes? :(_

Keith sighs. Lance knows for a fact that he’s been pulling his hair out over this, he wishes he’d just leave it alone. While Lance always craves company when he’s worried about something, Keith sometimes just needs space. It’s how he’s always done things. 

__

_im sorry lance i m really stressing over this can u please not guilt me about it_

Keith is halfway through memorizing this index card when his phone chimes. 

LanceyLance: _okay. sorry. don’t worry babe :) i know you’ll kill it._

He breathes out a sigh of relief. The last text he sent ran the risk of coming off as rude, but luckily Lance knows him well enough to separate his blunt from his mean. He sets his phone out of reach on the dresser and then gets back to memorizing.

—

“Lance?” Keith asks, pressing his phone between his cheek and the pillow, feeling thoroughly groggy. One glance at the neon green of the digital clock tells him it’s 1:40, meaning he’s been asleep for about an hour. “What’s wrong?” 

“Sorry,” Lance whispers, obviously aware that he’s woken Keith up, somehow thinking that a whisper makes this abrupt awakening more gentle. His self-set ringtone of Gasolina has already ruined that. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Really, Lance? Keith is too sleepy to have patience for this. It would be cute if it wasn’t in the middle of the night and, on top of that, the day before his big presentation. 

“Well, you’ve heard it now, haven’t you?” 

A pause. Keith hears sheets shifting and Lance clears his throat, then breathes in deeply through his mouth. “Yeah. Sorry. Good luck on your presentation tomorrow, Keith.” 

While Keith is too grumpy for this sweet stuff, something about Lance’s tone softens his heart. “Thank you. Goodnight, honey.” 

“Goodnight. I love you.” 

Keith hangs up and sticks his phone back on the dresser, then groans and punches his pillow into place. It takes him only minutes to fall back asleep. 

—

Even though Keith presents at two, he heads down to the convention area earlier so that he can make connections with people. Lance would call it ‘mingling’, he thinks with a small smile, and he would enjoy it. Keith, on the other hand, hates it and only does it because the reality of any field is that it’s all about who you know. 

He’s in the middle of a chat about the potential impact of AI on the medical field with some big-shot researcher when his phone rings. It’s on vibrate, so he silences the call quickly and keeps chatting. When he gets a second call, though, he apologizes and takes a glance. Lance’s face is beaming up at him. He bites his lip, debating. Normally, he’d answer with no qualms, but after the call last night, he’s a little annoyed. Still, it’s a repeat call. He should pick up. 

“Sorry, it’s my fiancé.” Keith smiles apologetically and puts his phone up to his ear as he presses accept, then steps away. He rolls his eyes as he hears the man say something about ‘can’t keep the missus waiting’. Good one. 

“Hey, Lance. What’s going on? I’m kinda in the middle of something, so if you can call me later, I—“ 

Lance interrupts him, voice wavering as he speaks. “I’m sorry. I just —“ He sniffles. “I just miss you.” He sniffles again, wetter this time. "I don't feel good. I want you here." 

Keith doesn’t like the sound of that. Of course he has sympathy for him, he misses him, too, but it’s barely been three days. They’ve been apart for much longer and been just fine. His brow creases as he tries to figure out what’s really getting to Lance. 

“Lance, honey, I miss you, too. But—“ Once again, Keith is cut off. This time by a loud sneeze, followed by a series of coughs. He hears frantic sniffles and then the sound gets muffled, like Lance set down the phone. His heart instantly plummets into his stomach and automatically he rubs his thumb over the silver band on his ring finger. 

Lance is sick. And probably running a pretty high temperature, if this emotional state of his is anything to go by. And he’s always so clingy when he’s sick and Keith hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice. He’s so stupid. Stupid and self-absorbed. He massages a forefinger and thumb over the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what to do here. He can’t give Lance the attention he wants, not right now. This conference is once a year. But he’s also been ignoring him recently and so it feels wrong to end this call without calming him down. 

“Lance?” Keith asks, trying to raise his voice enough that he’ll hear him over his own coughing, but not wanting anyone in this convention hall to take notice. “Lance?” 

He hears shuffling and then Lance’s voice is at his ear again. “Sorry, Keith. I’m sorry. I know, you have to go. I know I shouldn’t have called.” He sniffles, sounding so sad and lonely that Keith wishes he could fly home this instant to be by his side. 

“No, it’s okay,” Keith promises, deciding that, yeah, it is okay. It’s inconvenient, but Lance can’t help that he got sick at this time. He’s his fiancé, for goodness sake, and Keith has been treating him like an afterthought. “I’m sorry, too. I haven’t been the best boyfriend. I’ll call you tonight, okay? I have a dinner thing to go to, but then I’m free.” 

“Okay,” Lance whispers. He doesn’t say anything else after that, but Keith knows he hasn’t hung up because he can hear his congested breathing. 

“I…” Keith isn’t good at this whole care-taking thing. Especially not when it’s over the phone. “I hope you feel better.” That’s not enough. He blinks forcefully, willing his brain to come up with something else. “Did you call in to work today?” 

“Yeah.” He hears Lance clear his throat, and then he’s blowing his nose. “It’s the rules, you know. I can’t even have a case of the sniffles or they send me home.” Lance works at a daycare. It’s a fancy one for kids of the rich and famous (not really famous, but definitely loaded) and he does pretty well for himself, but there are drawbacks to working with kids. For example, parents can drop their kids off even if their noses are dripping or they’re shivering with fever, but Lance and the other nannies can’t work if they’re sick. It makes sense, but it definitely sucks. 

“Yeah,” Keith echoes, then sighs when he catches sight of the researcher he was talking to earlier. He’s headed towards some booth across the room. That might’ve been his only chance to talk to him. “I’m sorry, Lance. I really gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. I’ll call at eight-thirty. Sound good?” 

“Uh huh. Good luck. I love you.” 

“Okay, love you too. Bye.” 

— 

The second Lance’s face comes into view on Keith’s laptop, the guilty feeling in his stomach is back. He looks awful. Lance is sitting in their bed, knees pulled up to his chest, chin resting on top of them. His cheeks are too flushed and his skin is too dull. His eyes, which are usually bright, are glassy and shadowed by tired half-moons. Keith watches as he lifts his arm so that he can rub his sweatshirt sleeve underneath his nose. “Hey,” Lance croaks, voice sounding a thousand times worse than it did earlier when he called. Still, he smiles at Keith when he responds with a hey of his own, chapped lips quirking up at the corners. “It’s good to see you.” He raises his arm again, this time to smother a cough. “How did the presentation go? And dinner.” 

There goes Lance. Annoyingly caring as ever, even when he’s sick as a dog. “It went well.” It did. Really well, in fact. There’s so much Keith wants to tell him, wants to see his face light up all proud and hear him laugh when he tells him what this guy did at dinner — but that can wait. He’s been neglecting his boyfriend for long enough. “But first I wanna know how you’re doing, okay? Have you had a fever all day?” 

He shrugs in response. “Since yesterday, I think. I dunno. I haven’t checked.” So he’s been sick for more than just today? 

Suddenly the sad-faced emotion after Lance’s text message last night makes more sense. And here Keith had been annoyed with him. God. He’s been awful to him. He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry that I missed our call last night.” He can’t even blame Lance for not telling him he was sick. He would’ve done the same in the situation, after Keith called him out for guilting.

Keith is better at taking care of people when he gives them direct fixes, so he switches the direction of the conversation to try and ease some of his guilt. “Have you been eating? And you’re taking some meds, right? At least an Advil?” Last time Lance had a cold he somehow forget to take anything to help with the symptoms. How Lance, self-care specialist, managed to do that is beyond him, but he honestly finds it sort of endearing. 

Lance’s face, which looked relaxed a second ago, tightens. He shifts his gaze to his socked feet. “Sort of. But — sorry, I — I don’t really want to talk. My throat kinda hurts worse since I threw up so, uh…” 

“Oh, Lance. I’m so sorry.” Keith drags a hand down his face, wanting more than anything to be able to comfort him in person. Being alone with a cold is one thing, but this seems more like a flu. 

Lance’s eyes flick up to the camera and he lets out an embarrassed little laugh. “It’s okay. Can I just listen to you? I’ll feel better if I hear your voice.” 

Keith opens his mouth to protest, to tell Lance that he has to take care of himself first, and he really should be eating, but then he snap it shut. He sort of owes this to Lance. And he flies home tomorrow, so he can help him in person then. 

“Okay. I’ll do it if you drink some water.” It’s a compromise. Lance nod his head, leaning out of frame to retrieve a half-empty glass. He looks directly into the camera for a second, then takes a small sip and sets it back down. 

“I don’t want to throw it back up,” he whispers, expression miserable, and Keith nods. He wants to tell Lance that it’s actually worse on a throat to whisper than to speak out loud, but he’ll hold his tongue this time. 

With Lance’s end of the deal upheld, Keith starts talking. He tells him first about the city where the conference is being held, and then about the people he met, and by the time he’s getting to how his presentation went, Lance is lying on his side, pillow under his head. His eyes are closed, but Keith knows he’s not asleep because he sneezed just now and covered it up with his hand. Still, Keith thinks it’s time to wrap this up. He ends by summarizing the rest of his evening as quickly he can.

“Lance?” Keith asks softly, waiting until he sees him crack one eye open. “I’m gonna hang up now so that you can go to bed, okay?” He nods slightly, taking out his earbuds and tossing them out of the frame. Keith hears them hit the floor and smirks slightly. Classic Lance. It's good to see that his sickness doesn't impede his amazing ability to be a dumbass. 

“I love you so much. Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lance's eyes are closed again. "Love you, Keith. See you tomorrow." Lance sniffles, then lifts his head up slightly and opens his eyes to get one more look at him. He smiles. Keith does, too. 

"Goodnight." 

**Author's Note:**

> it's not important so i was vague but shiro is some well-known specialist doctor and keith works under him. or whatever.  
> potential part 2 coming


End file.
